There are certain universal desires, and chief among them is the desire to possess a button that will allow you to turn back time. The answer to all your problems.

    They thought that they had discovered the means to achieve the secret desire of their hearts. They thought they’d discovered magic. But we know that magic does not exist. Not in the way that most people wish it would. It was only an illusion.   

    You cannot turn back time. You can only move forward.   

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    She hit the stone floor, and the door slammed closed behind her. The double boom echoed in the silence. She lay there for a long time, blind either from pain or panic for the space around her glowed with an eerie yellow light, and felt.

    She felt her heart beating in her chest, erratic but welcome. She felt her shoulder aching where it had been pulled out of its socket. She felt the floor beneath her, cold and warm at the same time, like a living animal left out in the chilly night air, shivering and breathing.

    She tried to sit up, but she seemed glued to the floor. When she finally gained the strength to wrench her eyes open, she was surprised to find that she was lying not on stone but on black metal, cut into perfect square tiles.

    She heard a shuffle of feet to her right. Somehow managing to prop herself up on one arm, she turned sluggishly to face whatever had materialized to attack her. A cry was torn out of her lips when she saw the man standing there.

    He was propped up against the wall on shaking legs. His arms hung limp at his sides. His breathing grew louder, filling the room and forcing her to press one ear against the floor to block out the sound.

    When she looked back at him, the man was staring at her. His jaw worked as he struggled to speak through his labored breathing.

    “No, no, no. He’s dead. He’s not...You’re not...My brother is dead!”

    The phantom’s expression remained impassive. She forced herself up to a sitting position, and with a howl of rage that burned her throat, she flung the key clenched in her fist at him - at it. She expected the key to pass through the phantom and clang into the wall, but it bounced off the phantom’s chest. It flinched.

    Before either could react, the girl heard a sound like a door opening and slamming shut. But how...

    She whirled around, scrambling away from the door on all fours, and caught sight of another figure leaning against the wall beside the door. The figure turned, eyes sweeping across her to the man in the corner, and then sprang forward. His hand clamped down around the phantom’s throat for an instant, and then it vanished.

    He turned in slow motion, hands clenched into white-tipped fists, and stalked toward the girl. “Pima?” He knelt, extended a tentative hand, and placed it on her leg. He gripped it tight, his nails cutting into her flesh. “Pima...Pima…”

    He scooted closer, throwing an arm around her shoulders and drawing her to his chest.

    “Ahhh!” she cried out in pain when he squeezed her injured shoulder.

    “What’s wrong?” he asked, pulling back. His fingers traveled lightly up her arm, and his brow furrowed. He began to twist the arm this way and that.

    “It’s...my shoulder,” Pima whispered.

    His eyes flicked up to hers and held for a long moment as they examined each other’s faces.

    “Neeman...how…?”

    He seemed unhurt except for a gash that reached across one side of his face, from his left cheek to his temple. He smiled when she said his name, but his eyes remained sad. He pulled the key he wore around his neck out from under his shirt and let it rest on his chest. Pima’s eyes fixed on it, and she frowned.

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    His eyes dropped to her chest. “Pima...your key?”

    She gestured at the far wall where she had thrown the key earlier. Her hands were shaking. Neeman’s eyes followed her movement, but his hands remained on her arm. He gave it a sharp twist, and Pima’s shoulder popped back into place.

He caught her as she slumped forward. “Breathe. Breathe,” he murmured. “I’m sorry.”

    There was a pause as Pima tried to catch her breath.  Neeman reached up and brushed the hair from her eyes, forcing her to look at him.

“You really shouldn’t throw away your key like that. You have to keep it close. It’s important.”

    Pima managed a half glare, which he ignored. He stood and looked around the room while she struggled to lift herself onto her knees.

    “What now?” she asked, bracing herself against the dizziness that made her head swim.

    “Now we wait.”

    “Wait? For what?”

That wasn’t the answer she’d been expecting.

    “For you to regain your strength and for me to regain my head. We rest,” he added when he saw her confused expression. “We hole up in this...metal room...with our backs pressed against a solid wall, and we plan our next move.”

    “Our next move is to climb,” Pima said, hauling herself to her feet and wincing. Her head pounded, but she knew she couldn’t complain. At least nothing had tried to crack her skull open. “That’s always been the plan.”

    “Pima, weren’t you just outside in that hell landscape? Didn’t you see? This place is evil, even more than I thought. It’ll drive us insane. We have to be smart.”

    “No, we have to stick to the plan. And if you don’t think that’s smart, why did you come up with it in the first place? Remember that!”

    She stormed over to where she had thrown the key and glared down at it, trying to melt it with her gaze. She didn’t know what made her angrier: Neeman’s sudden indecision, or being trapped in this horrible place, or what she had left behind outside that door. It all swirled together in her mind into an angry red haze of fog. But sitting still and doing nothing - that would drive her crazy faster than anything the Tower could conjure. She was sure of that.

    Her eyes slid over Neeman. He was looking at the key with an odd look on his face. She wondered if she should make him sit down for a minute or two.

    She bent and scooped up the key. “Cross the marsh. Combat the guardian. Gain entry to the Time Tower. Find the stairs. Climb to the top. Open the door. Hit the off button. Save the world and everyone in it.” Her voice rose with each statement, and she took a step toward him with each pause. “That’s the plan, right? Right?”

    She stood almost chest to chest with him, staring up at his stone expression. He nodded slowly, his gaze still locked on the key. Pima closed her fist around it and held it against her chest. Taking a step back, she spun in a circle, searching for a break in the smooth metal walls.

    “Combat. Stairs. Key. Door. Off.”

    Neeman slid back into her line of sight. “Pima...” He reached out to take her hand, his voice silky smooth. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry about...It should be me. It should have been me from the beginning. Give me the key.”

    “Neeman, no.”

    He pressed his forehead against hers and closed his eyes, attempting to wrap an arm around her hips. “Yes. Let me. Please. I’ll take the key.”

    “No.” Pima shook her head emphatically. She slipped out of his grip, angling her body away from him, but kept one hand on his arm. “I think you hit your head too hard, Neeman. You’re not making sense. You know it has to be me now. It has to be me. I’m sorry for anything bad I ever said about you. You have fought to get us here. But this has to be done, and I...I have to do it. You stay here. Everything will be alright.” She tried to pull him toward the nearest wall, but he resisted. 

    “I can’t let you. Your brother---”

    “Is gone. I have nothing left to lose. It has to be me.”

    “We don’t know---”

    “Neeman!” Pima spun as he lunged for her. “Quit stalling! You have to let me go.”

    Her foot hit the wall. She felt cold metal for a second, and then she fell back. She cried out when her knees met the floor. She jumped up and swung around, her eyes wide. One of the walls had disappeared. A staircase rose up in the center of the opening, dark and forbidden-looking.

    Neeman inhaled and then breathed out, “The stairs.”

    Pima glanced at him over her shoulder - one last look at his handsome features - before she dashed to the foot of the stairs. A moment’s hesitation - a second to let fear grip her heart - and then she shook herself free and began to climb.

    One step. Two. Three. Four. Five.

    There was a burst of light. A door swung outward, almost catching her in the face, and she was thrown into a nightmare.